


We All Scream For Ice Cream

by TheMouthKing



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: After Hours, Dirty Talk, Established, Food Play, Kinda, M/M, Prompt Fic, but labeled E because I said bad words, laughing, not smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 04:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMouthKing/pseuds/TheMouthKing
Summary: Rhett's got a sweet tooth. Link is dessert.





	We All Scream For Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kpuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kpuff/gifts).



> I got a prompt from kpuff:
> 
> Prompt: Link enjoys a sundae with whipped cream and is very messy. Rhett observes..... (Take it away how ever you like :D)
> 
> I think I read it wrong. Oops?

“I hate bananas,” Link complains, watching Rhett slicing a banana in half lengthwise.

“Luckily, you’re not the one eating this sundae.”

Rhett gingerly places both halves of the banana along either side of Link’s cock. It doesn’t stay put, mostly because Link’s not doing a great job of being still. One half slides down and rests, curled against the top of Link’s thigh. Rhett doesn’t keep on fighting with it, because he’s got more sundae making to do. 

“What flavor’m I gonna be?” Link asks, watching Rhett work. He’s all stretched out on that same wide table again, but it’s after hours now. They’re the only ones left in the studio. Which would explain the lack of swim trunks and goggles. 

“Well, you’re sure as shit not gonna be vanilla,” Rhett says, eyes crinkling up, not even trying to conceal his amusement about his joke. 

“You said it, brother,” Link smirks up at him from the table, watching as Rhett takes a carton of ice cream in hand and grabs an ice cream scoop. 

The first scoop is a shock of cold as it plops down on his chest, directly on his left nipple, but it doesn’t stay where it’s put; Link squirms in response to the cold. Or maybe to the mess. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with him, just what it is about a thing that gets him going. “Goodness, that’s cold!” he hollers. 

“It’s ice cream, Link,” Rhett sort of falters in the middle there, delivering the line like it’s comedic, but his expression slips intense and his gaze is straying down the length of Link’s naked body. The next scoop of ice cream lands on Link’s right nipple, but it too shifts quickly enough. One scoop’s settled in the middle of his chest, and the other’s in his armpit, dripping down the crook of his arm. 

Link dips a finger into it and brings it to his mouth and licks. “Mmm… peanut butter,” he practically coos, expression warming. 

“Stop eatin’ my sundae before I’m even done making it,” Rhett scoops another ball of ice cream and drops it on Link’s belly button, and _oh_ but that earns a truly delicious reaction. Link’s squirming his hips, thighs spreading, completely upsetting the bananas that had been so precariously placed there. 

_“Fuck,”_ Link hisses, eyes slipping shut for a second as he starts to get lost in this, in the feeling of being laid out and used like this. As a plate, or the main course itself. Or in this case, the dessert. It’s messy, and that’s part of the appeal. He’s so _particular_ about everything, so very clean and neat that sometimes getting really _really_ messy was a serious release. Knowing he’d clean up after and was free to just enjoy getting as messy as he wanted to be here with Rhett, and that it’d all be okay. That Rhett liked it, too, that it was all okay. This side of him wasn’t too weird. Nothing he could bring to the table was too much. 

“You’re messing up the banana, man,” Rhett says like he’s trying to sound disapproving, but he’s not doing a real good job of it. When Link opens his eyes, he sees Rhett peeling a fresh banana, getting ready to replace it. 

“…I’ll give you a banana if you want one so bad, bo,” Link says with a deliberate shimmy of his hips, drawing attention to the fact that he was more than half hard already. As if Rhett was unaware. 

“Certainly more a-peel-ing, I’ll give it that,” Rhett says, cheeks rounding with pleasure at his terrible, terrible pun. His eyes, however, are fairly glued to that little move, that fucking shimmy. 

Link laughs in spite of himself, the motion of the laughter making his belly button ice cream slip to the left and leave a sticky, cold trail over his hip as it travels down and sideways. It sorta feels like it’s gonna settle at his crotch, cold at the base of his cock, and he glances down to see it — keeps it from doing that, guiding the gob of ice cream back up to his belly button. Too much cold too far south ruins the fun. 

“Stop messing with my sundae,” Rhett swats at his hand until he settles back down. Then he pulls out the bowl he’d set up with hot fudge to keep it warm. Using a ladle and going slow, he starts at the center of his chest, the second the first drizzle of the nearly-hot sauce makes contact with Link’s skin, the dark haired man gasps. It’s obvious he’s _affected,_ the warm trails that the sauce leaves over his skin is so different from the cool ice cream, such a sharp contrast it’s pulling shivers out of him. With his eyes closed, it’s hard to guess just where he’ll feel the lick of hot sauce next. It doesn’t help that he’s imagining that before too long, every trace of it is going to be chased by Rhett’s tongue. Or rather, it helps a whole damn lot.

Rhett draws a wide heart completely encompassing his full chest with the point almost reaching his navel. Then he comes back up and uses the ladle to nudge Link’s chin up to expose his neck, leaving a dark smear there. He leaves a lazy back and forth squiggle of fudge there, plenty of it to be licked off later. Lets it pool in the hollow of his throat, over his prominent collar bone and lower. 

He leaves lazy swirling designs aiming downwards, along his hips and over his thighs, his calves, all the way to his feet until he’s just dripping with sweet, syrupy sauce. 

“You ready for the whipped cream, brother?” Rhett asks. His voice is giving him away, thick and hungry. 

“Mmhmm,” is about all Link can get out right now. He’d gotten a little lost there, the whole of his attention narrowed down to that warm line of sauce tracing along his body. 

“Here it comes,” and Rhett isn’t shy with the whipped cream. He starts by depressing the nozzle and filling his mouth with it before turning it on Link, starting with his chest. Leaving a perfect cone of it on his now ice cream bereft left nipple. 

“…that’s what I’mma say later,” Link remarks with a goofy smirk, gasping softly as he feels the whipped cream on his chest. 

Laughter explodes out of Rhett, barely contained even as he catches himself, hand over his chest, and continues with his task. He leaves a similar peak over his right nipple and then leaves dots down the center of his chest like buttons. 

It’s difficult to cover his cock in whipped cream, but that doesn’t mean he’s not trying. He’s more than half-hard, and he’s trying to swirl the whipped cream all around him but it keeps sliding down and it’s generally not looking the way he’d like it to. So in the end, he sort of gives up, adds a dollop on the head and moves on. Lays a line along that v shape in his hips and down along the tops of his thighs. 

“Hmmm… time for toppings. I think we need some nuts…” Rhett’s going for a bag of crushed peanuts, when he’s interrupted. 

“I got some nuts for you right here,” he doesn’t move to gesture down at himself — he doesn’t wanna mess up the sundae — but the look on his face when they lock eyes makes his meaning crystal clear. It’s playful and there’s a bright gleam in his eye, but it’s also rife with raunchy intention. The further they get into this, the filthier Link gets, the more open. The less restrained. And, _God_ is it ever a good look on him. 

Rhett’s chuckling as he sprinkles the finely chopped peanuts all over Link’s body, letting them stick in the sauce and the whipped cream, pooling where his arms are pressed along the sides of his body, over his hips and groin, grinning to himself at the joke of just about covering his nuts in nuts. 

“Mm, baby, you look just about good enough to eat… I think you’re missin’ something, though,” Rhett muses to himself, and reaches over to the side table to pick up a little bowl of stemmed cherries. 

“…I don’t know about that,” Link says, eyeing the cherries. “I haven’t got any more cherries for you, bo,” he’s trying his best not to smile and give up the joke. 

“They were delicious, though,” Rhett grins to himself, popping one of the cherries into his own mouth, yanking off the stem and bursting it between his teeth, making sure the juice sprays over Link. As if getting a little cherry juice on him makes much difference now. Link still makes a face when some of it sprays towards his face, like he’s not already a godless mess. 

Rhett delicately places a cherry over each nipple and, because everything placed in his belly button already has melted down and moved, he lays another cherry right there in the mess that is his navel. Then he steps back to take a look at his work. 

Link’s trapped beneath the mess of ice cream and sauce, whipped cream, all of it. What keeps him down is all in his head. The fact that if he moves, he messes it up. But it’s powerful nonetheless. He doesn’t wanna let Rhett down, he wants to be good for him at times like this. It’s so unlike how he is, usually. Link in control, Link pushing and taking… but sometimes Link needed to be made to lay still. Needed to just let things happen, to deal with the aftermath of it. To just wallow in the mess. 

He realizes after a bit that Rhett isn’t moving or talking. Link had gotten lost in his thoughts, eyes closed and just feeling the cool and hot and sticky wet of it all, just so focused on his own body and how he felt that he’d sort of forgotten about Rhett. He’s expecting Rhett to come back and touch him, but when it didn’t happen it caught his attention. 

When Link looks over at Rhett, he catches him pulling his black t-shirt off over his head. Hands dropping to his waist, unzipping his jeans and shimmying them down his hips, all the while eyeing Link like he’s about two seconds from devouring him whole.

“Lay still, baby… I’m real hungry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for liking, commenting, and subscribing. ;)


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